


Merry Satinalia!

by Lafaiette



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: DA Secret Santa 2020, F/M, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28323972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: Three Christmas/Satinalia scenes forharumeaufeaturing her beautiful OCs!
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas, Fenris/Female Hawke
Kudos: 5





	Merry Satinalia!

“That’s great, kid.” Varric said with a smile, eyeing the colorful paper which Cole had wrapped a bit clumsily around a huge bottle of Antivan wine. “Don’t worry if it looks a little wonky - nobody keeps the paper anyway.”

“You do.” Cole said quietly, gingerly touching the ribbon he had added on top. The shape of the bottle was unmistakable, but at least Kyrene wouldn’t know  _ what  _ kind of drink it was until it was open. 

“Yes, well…” Varric laughed, hoping his blush wasn’t too bright, even though he was sure Cole had already sensed his embarrassment. “I’m a special case. Now, why don’t you put this in the pile with the others?”

“I like this holiday.” Cole smiled, placing the bottle next to a square package, the new chapter of  _ Swords and Shields  _ that Varric had written for Cassandra. “Big like the sky, warm like the love that carries the gifts. Satinalia of the moon.”

“That’s right.” Varric’s smile grew. “You know, I used to celebrate it with Hawke and the others in Kirkwall. We would spend  _ hours _ at The Hanged Man and…”

“... And drink and eat, laughing merrily together. Merrily, Merrill, daisies need water, not alcohol. She always lost at cards, but you let her win.”

“Yeah.” The dwarf shook his head with a fond sigh. “I guess I should have expected that.”

“Expected what, Master Tethras?” 

Solas strode into the main hall with a thin package in his hands. It wasn’t large, but not small either, and Varric realized what it was despite the brown paper covering it.

“Ah, Chuckles! A painting for the Inquisitor, I bet?”

Solas narrowed his eyes a little and shot the dwarf a half-hearted glare while he smiled innocently.

“Please, Master Tethras, not so loud. It is supposed to be a surprise.”

“My bad! I’m just too good at guessing what gifts are and who they are for.”

“That is an  _ admirable _ ability, but be careful not to spoil the festivities.”

Varric spluttered something at that, pretending to be offended, even putting a hand on his chest to mimic a mortal wound. 

“Chuckles!” he gasped, eliciting a small, but warm smile from Solas. “Me, spoil a party?  _ I  _ am the one who makes them better!”

“I believe Dorian wouldn’t quite agree with that statement.”

“Sparkler is usually the one who  _ throws  _ them.” Varric bowed deeply, a smartass grin on his beardless face. “I increase their quality with my engaging stories and rounds of Wicked Grace.”

Still in the mood of joking, he eyed the growing pile of presents which the Inquisitor’s Inner Circle had started near the fireplace of the main hall, their personal corner for the upcoming celebration of Satinalia. 

“Aren’t you curious about the presents people prepared for  _ you _ ? Cole and I already made some bets on ours.”

“A new hat would be nice.” Cole said, smiling happily at the idea. 

“It has been a long time since I took part in… such activities.” Solas admitted and Varric could have sworn there was a light blush on the tips of his pointed ears. 

“Maybe the Inquisitor got you a new book. I know she doesn’t like to read, not even my masterpieces,” and here Varric pretended to be offended again, “but  _ you  _ do and she knows that.”

“Mh.” Solas’ smile was broader, this time, and definitely sweeter than before. “Indeed she does.”

“Or maybe,” Varric continued, sitting comfortably on his usual spot, “she prepared some concoctions for you. She is always tinkering with her bottles and potions and stuff.”

“I am not a child, Master Tethras.” Solas gently replied, his smile still there. “I am not in a rush to guess or discover what the presents for me will be before the right time.”

But then his eyes darted to the pile, studying the various shapes and sizes, the different kinds of paper, wrappings, and ribbons. His blush spread on his cheeks and his smile got larger, before being replaced by a pout at the sound of Varric’s snickers. 

“Of course you aren’t, Chuckles.”

  
  


\- - - 

  
  


“Oh, Reyna, this is beautiful! Thank you so much!”

Leliana raised her hand to better look at her macrame bracelet in the light of the campfire, her cheeks red. Next to her, Wynne laughed softly and Oghren made a crass joke before fixing the knot of his bracelet. 

The Warden gave them a small, but warm smile, the corner of her eyes crinkling as she did so.

“You’re quite skilled with your hands, dear Warden.” Zevran said with a huge grin in which fondness and brotherly affection were badly hidden. He had been surprised to receive another gift from her, one specially made by her using colors she knew he liked. She had used the same method for everyone else’s bracelets, and the results had been adored so far.

“Was that a sexual innuendo?” Alistair asked, his head snapping up as he stopped staring at his gift. “Maker, it sounded like one. No sexual innuendos around the campfire or before dinner, Zevran! We talked about this!”

He had been the first one to receive Reyna’s present for Satinalia and he still couldn’t believe his eyes, constantly turning his wrist this way and that and touching the blue, brown, and silver macrame threads with reverence. 

“Thank you for this, my love.” he said sweetly, smiling up at Reyna as she walked past him. She squeezed his shoulder, her smile growing a little, and in her eyes was the promise of kisses and hugs in the privacy of their tent.

After making sure Fluffles had a beautiful yellow macrame collar hidden safely under the sturdy, leather one, she approached the most… ah,  _ timid  _ of her companions. 

Morrigan had been watching her from her little corner like a hawk, golden eyes narrowed down to slits. She didn’t move from where she was sitting, but her nails were digging half-moons into her skirts.

“Hi, Morrigan.” Reyna said, before offering her the last macrame bracelet in her satchel. Its threads were crimson, golden, black, all tightly woven like the links of a chainmail.

“Happy Satinalia.”   


“Hmph.” Morrigan gave her a strange look and a strange smile, and she crossed her arms to appear less friendly and more menacing. Not that it ever worked with Reyna. 

“‘Tis not the time for celebrations, I fear, Warden. Have you forgotten we are in the middle of a Blight, with a tyrant chasing us and perils at every corner?”

“I have not forgotten.” Reyla assured her. “I think that’s exactly why we should celebrate something, once in a while. We could all die tomorrow.”

“Charming.” Morrigan’s mouth twisted - Reyla wasn’t sure whether it was a half-smile or a grimace. “Well, then, is that your idea of a gift? A silly bracelet which shall get soiled or destroyed after one single battle?”

“You could always wear it under your armor!” came Alistair’s useful and a bit angry quip from the main campfire. Morrigan looked ready to turn him into a toad right there and then.

“Stop eavesdropping!”

“It’s not eavesdropping if the whole camp can hear you!”

“Ugh! I do not know how you can be with him, Warden!”

“It’s easy. I usually just have to stand near him. That counts as being with him.”

Morrigan frowned, not sure she understood (and she hated that, since she took great pride in her intelligence). It took her a little while to realize it was a dry, terrible joke, but it was effective, for she snorted and shook her head. Reyna’s smile came back. 

“Very well.” Morrigan reached out with an open hand, pretending to be deeply bothered. “I suppose I shall accept your gift and wear it where it will be less likely to get ruined.”

Reyna put the bracelet on her palm and watched her tie it around her wrist. She offered her help when she struggled to tie the knot, but the witch shushed her. Once it was fixed, she waved her off.

“Go, now. The others are waiting for you to partake in the merriments.”

“They are waiting for  _ us _ .”

“You are asking for too much, now, Warden.” Morrigan said, glaring half-heartedly at her. 

Reyna respected her choice and left with another small smile and a wave of her hand. Later that evening, she saw the young woman touch her bracelet with big eyes, an expression of wonder on her face, like a child who had received a gift for the first time in her life. 

When it started to snow, Morrigan grumpily accepted to join the rest of the team around the bigger fire. She kept her fingers on the macrame threads for the whole time, as if to protect them from the flames and embers. 

  
  


\- - -

  
  


“Why are we here again?” Fenris sighed, a puff of hot air rising up in the air as he did so. He hadn’t expected  _ snow  _ in this part of the Free Marches, but nothing ever made sense about Thedas and he just had to accept the white flakes dropping slowly all around them.

Aravis was playing -  _ playing  _ \- with Varric and Isabela further along the road, throwing snowballs and ducking behind stones to avoid being hit. Her laugh made him smile - she was genuinely having fun and he loved seeing her like that. 

He still kept an eye on their surroundings, not wanting to be caught by surprise by bandits or Maker knew what else. However, from time to time, his eyes went back to his lover, then to the red cloth tied around his arm. 

“Fenris!” an excited, childlike voice called. Merrill joined him, some half-dead, moping flowers in her reddened hands. 

“Are you having fun?” she asked, two bright spots on her cheeks. “Isn’t the snow amazing? I missed it so much! It always snowed in Ferelden!”

“I witnessed it only once, while fleeing from Danarius.” he answered. He wasn’t used to it, but it wasn’t so bad. Not when it made Aravis laugh like that. 

He nodded at the flowers, raising an eyebrow.

“Where did you find those?”

“I saved them! These plants don’t thrive well in this cold.”

“But you plucked them out of the ground. They are going to die anyway, Merrill.”

She looked down at the poor flowers and a sad sound escaped her lips as she realized her mistake. She kept holding them, but with less enthusiasm than before. 

“I’m sorry. I was just so excited to see snow again that I...”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Fenris continued to observe the road, the trees on its sides, the snow covering everything like a white veil. He heard Isabela scream some obscenities as Varric’s snowball hit her right in the neck. 

“Why don’t you join them? I doubt we will have time to dawdle like this later.” he told Merrill, wishing for a bit of solitude, but also wanting to make her feel somewhat better after his harsh remarks. 

“Oh, I’m not good at snowball fights!” she laughed nervously. “I would always lose every time I fought with friends from my clan.” 

That sentence could have more than one meaning, Fenris thought bitterly, but he decided not to point it out. He realized Merrill was actually feeling shy - he noticed how her eyes would dart to Hawke and the others playing ahead, how sad and wistful her gaze had become. She  _ did  _ want to join them, but she was scared of bothering them, of disrupting their balance.

Fenris sighed and wondered  _ why _ he was about to do what he was about to do. He picked a handful of snow from the ground, ignoring Merrill’s stare, and morphed it into a ball with circular movements of his hands. He stopped, checked its weight, and aimed straight for Hawke’s back.

She shrieked and turned around with a shocked expression on her cherry-red face. Then her lips curled into a huge grin and she hurried to gather snow to begin her counterattack, followed by the ever-loyal Varric and a snickering Isabela.

“Stop gawking at them and help me.” Fenris told Merrill, handing her a new snowball. She let the flowers go, her mouth still open, and accepted the ammunition without a word. 

It took her only a few minutes to start laughing with the others.

  
  
  
  


Later that day, as they rested in an old inn they had found along the path, Aravis kissed his cheek. 

“Thank you for convincing Merrill.” she said. “I didn’t know how to ask her to join us without embarrassing her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fenris mumbled, sipping his glass of warm mead and pretending his blush was caused by that. Aravis’ loving, loud laugh made his lips twitch in a smile and he slipped a dry flower in her hair. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
